Ready to Leave
by aslytherspuff
Summary: Oneshot written for The Houses Competition Round 8. Prompt: "I'm not ready to leave." Next Generation. Romance / Angst / Family / Hurt/Comfort. Background/parents HarryxGinny and background/grandparents MollyxArthur.


House: Gryffindor

Year: 4 (stand-in)

Category: 4

Prompt: "I'm not ready to leave."

Word Count: 1480

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A/N: Storyline is not canon to Cursed Child. It is an AU I created based (very) roughly on the information JK provided in the epilogue at the end of Deathly Hallows.  
Also, "Jamie" refers to James Sirius Potter.

* * *

It had been building for months. Not the argument, nor my leaving – though that had been planned for weeks – but the confession.

A raw, vulnerable, uncontrollable outpouring of honesty triggered by a year of lying to myself and a minute of heated argument.

"I'm not ready to leave."

That's what started it.

Teddy had sighed, pushing his hair out of his face.

"You've had weeks. What do you mean you aren't ready? The Portkey leaves in less than a minute!"

"I didn't say I wasn't packed," I snapped, indignantly, gesturing to the two massive bags at my side. "I said I wasn't ready to leave!" I was getting angry – a kind of desperate anger fuelled by high emotions and fear and anxiety.

"They're the same thing!"

I was goading him into an argument, and it was working.

The argument went round in circles, neither of us saying what we really meant, until the Portkey started to glow.

Hands trembling, faces red, cheeks wet with tears, our eyes met.

"I'm not ready to leave _you_."

I didn't even see his reaction before the Portkey yanked me away, twisting and turning me through time and space before dumping me unceremoniously in the Burrow's front garden.

Grandma Molly bustled out, the bright smile falling instantly when she saw my face. I was crying in earnest now, and her tight, bone-crushing hug only made me sob harder. I was easily a foot taller than her, but she pulled my head down onto her shoulder, stroking my hair like she had when I was a little kid. Scraped knees and lost toys were easier to fix than broken hearts.

"Come on, in you come, there's a pot of tea ready for you in the kitchen."

I let her grab my arm and lead me inside, deceptively strong for a woman of her age and height. Clearly a trait that Weasley women shared in both physicality and temperament.

We sat at the ancient wooden table in silence, and I was grateful for that. Grandma Molly seemed to know when I needed to talk, and when I didn't.

Eventually, my tears slowed down enough that they'd dried on my cheeks before the next ones fell, my breathing had slowed, and my second cup of tea was finished.

Grandma Molly poured me another cup, but said nothing, waiting for me to start on my own terms. And I did.

"Grandma..." I took a deep breath, carefully weighing my next words. "How did you feel when my mum and dad started dating?"

If Grandma Molly was surprised by my line of questioning, it didn't show. "Happy, of course," she smiled. "Worried, too. Because they were young. Because of the war. And worried that they might get hurt."

I nodded. I'd heard Grandma and Grandpa tell stories of my mum and dad as teenagers, so I'd heard this answer before.

"But... you've always said they're both your children... even before they got married?"

Now she looked surprised, and a little concerned. The frown lines between her eyebrows – the ones she said were caused by having too many sons – deepened slightly, and the left corner of her mouth tensed almost imperceptibly.

"Yes, dear. Harry was as good as my son from the moment I met him."

I'd heard that before, too.

"Uncle Bill said you'd tried to adopt my dad. Y'know, before. When his parents died."

Grandma's frown deepened again, but she nodded. "Your grandpa and I certainly spoke to Dumbledore about it, yes, but the old man – Godric rest his soul – was adamant about sending him to those awful Muggles." I could see some of the old anger flashing in her eyes, but she quickly fixed them on me, expression calculating.

I tried very hard to keep my face and tone from giving anything away, but I knew Grandma Molly could see right through me, just like she could all her grandchildren. She'd probably known from the minute I arrived in her front garden.

"You're wondering if it was odd, aren't you? If I found it strange that two children I thought of as equally my own were dating."

How did she _do_ that? I felt an uncomfortable heat suffuse my cheeks, and suddenly the pockmarked woodgrain of the table top was fascinating to me.

Grandma chuckled warmly, a soft, reassuring sound, and her wrinkled hand found mine, patting it gently.

"Your mother and father are equally loved, equally part of this family, but they are not related. All I wanted for any of my children was for them to find the happiness that I have in your grandpa. And that is all your parents will want for you. And for Teddy."

This time, I didn't even bother to question how she knew so much without ever being told. She sounded so sure that for a moment, all the weight seemed to lift off my shoulders, before the sound of the Floo brought it all crashing back down.

Grandma Molly gave me one last smile before rushing into the living room to greet my parents. I stayed at the table, staring into my teacup.

Footsteps – just the one set – crossed the hall and entered the kitchen.

"Hey, Jamie."

Dad.

I didn't know which parent I had been hoping for, honestly.

"Grandma Molly said we have something we need to talk about."

Of course, she did.

"Does it have anything to do with a Floo call I got from Teddy five minutes ago?"

My head flew up at that, cheeks burning, heart pounding; my reaction gave the answer away without having to say a word.

Dad wasn't as bright as mum, but even a blind, deaf Flobberworm wouldn't have missed _that_ overreaction. He gave me a wry smile. "I'll take that as a yes, then." He ran his hands through the birds nest he called hair and sighed loudly. "Want to tell me why you've apparently both been crying?"

I flushed bright red, shaking my head resolutely. I'd been crying because I was stupidly, ridiculously in love with my godbrother. Teddy had been crying because I was an asshole who couldn't manage his own emotions like a grown up. "Just a stupid argument."

Dad raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced by my less-than-stellar lie. "A stupid argument about what, exactly?" He wasn't going to let this go, and I'd never been any good at lying to him.

The best way to tell Dad stuff was to blurt and run; much easier than telling him in small portions and giving him time to draw his own – wildly inaccurate – conclusions.

I took a deep breath, switched off my verbal filter, and let it all spill out.

"So, you know how Albus turned out to be as gay as his namesake? Well, apparently, I am, too. Sirius, I mean, not your dad. And, like Albus, I've managed to fall for the most inappropriate person available. But at least they are. Available, I mean. They're not married or anything. Which is good. Not that it matters cause he'll never like me anyway and I've been a total asshole and we've had a fight because I always bottle everything up and then it explodes and I say stuff I shouldn't say and mess everything up." I finally took a breath, leaped up from the table, and sprinted for the door.

Dad's Auror reflexes stopped me in my tracks, his hand gripping my arm tightly. "You should talk to him," is all he said before his hand dropped back down onto the table.

I dashed for the door, knowing it would be a cold day in Hell before I followed his advice. I had no business trying to talk to my probably-definitely-straight godbrother about my probably-definitely-gay feelings towards him. All that would achieve was really uncomfortable Weasley family Christmases for all involved.

Back at home, over dinner, Mum asked "Have you spoken to Teddy yet?" in a tone one might use to say 'please pass the potatoes'.

I flushed red and ignored her question.

After dinner, Lily cornered me in the kitchen. "Teddy flooed while you were at Grandma's. I heard him talking to Dad. Did you call him back?"

I ducked out of her grasp and shut myself in my room.

I was busy trying to focus on an article in _Quidditch Quarterly_ when someone knocked on my door. Probably Dad or Albus, this time, trying to talk me into Flooing Teddy.

"Go away!"

The door creaked open anyway, because my family have absolutely no concept of privacy.

"Jamie."

I was on my feet in an instant, magazine falling forgotten to the floor. Teddy Lupin was standing in the doorway. Eyes puffy. Cheeks flushed. Hair an uncertain green-grey.

His sharp, hazel eyes met mine, all daring and determination.

"I wasn't ready for you to leave, either."


End file.
